Reality Check
by Rowe1
Summary: Three men with the same genes but living in different worlds. Final Chapter up.
1. In the mind's eye

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Reality Check

By Rowe

Summary: Three little boys born at Manticore grew into three very different men in different worlds. But one thing they all shared was their need for a purpose in life. This is their story.

Thankyou once again to my wonderful betas; Sorrow and Enigma. Your encouragement and well-chosen criticism has kept me on the path to sanity. 

Chapter 1: In the mind's eye…….

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Once upon a time, three baby boys were born. All three were exactly the same, sharing the usually unique gene code of creation, all had the same DNA. But their lives would turn out to be no fairytale, but instead, full of stories of suffering, violence and horror. Gifted to be handsome, smart and strong, the world would have appeared to be at their feet. Fate however had other ideas. Their futures would hold pain and confusion with a world that they had been created to help save. 

Though their lives were separate, still they remained intricately linked. For the fate of one had the ability to decide the fate of them all.

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The forest around him crackled with life. He knelt silently examining the ground, searching for signs he could track. He sniffed the air. His quarry was near. It was little more than sport to him, but for a while it kept his demons at bay. It made him into what he was meant to be; a killer. It gave him a purpose. The doubts that plagued his mind were no longer fully allayed by his faith in her. But still he had been faithful, presenting her with tokens to show his worthiness.

The world haunted him. Running away, escaping had been a pack thing. Fear for survival had driven them when Eva was coldly gunned down. Zack had ordered them to separate, to escape and evade. But now he was isolated. A pack animal was weak by itself. He was weak, but he needed to prove that he was strong. How else could he survive? Sometimes this world confused him. Manticore may have been hell, but its walls had kept the world at bay. Inside them he had known his place. Out here he felt lost and so very alone.

Crouching low, he stalked the frightened man. The fool didn't realise that his fear made him more visible, he could smell the pungent odour. Moving swiftly, he caught up to his prey and, with a snarl, he pounced. This man had not been a worthy adversary. The body slumped to the ground limply, the freshly tattooed barcode visible. He knew somewhere in his mind that this was wrong, but how could it feel so right? How could it make him so alive? He collected his souvenirs and left the body where it lay. He knew who he was, he was X5-493, he was Ben. That was one of the few things in his mind that he could keep straight.

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Training had been especially rigorous this morning. Prepping for a mission often was. He knew he was going to be going on a solo mission for the first time. He felt a little trepidation but he knew he was more than capable. This was what they had trained him to do; this was what he had been made for. He had a briefing scheduled for tomorrow, first thing. New skills were required for this assignment, he had been already advised. He would require keyboard skills, his piano lessons were to begin at 09.00. Relishing a new challenge to his dexterity he entered his dorm room to change. 

The bunk looked comfortable but he knew he had no time to dawdle. He was due in the mess hall in less than five minutes. He changed from his sweats into fresh fatigues. Buckling his belt and tying his combat boot laces he straightened to leave. His orderly mind made a last check of his room. Everything was in place, check. He left and marched to dinner. Taking his seat as the bell rang. The others of his unit acknowledged him with a nod. His designation was X5-494: Manticore soldier and top of his class. His ordered mind prepared him to serve his role well. He was where he belonged. He was home. 

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The doors were always open. Sometimes lost souls were able to find themselves here where they were that little bit closer to God. He continued to place the hymnbooks out in preparation for the morning service. The peaceful serenity of the Church brought an inner calm to him. It was his calling. He felt a great sense of purpose helping these people that needed guidance. It made him feel worthwhile. 

Straightening up as he finished his task, he realised his collar was slightly crooked and he adjusted it. He liked order. The discipline as a novice had been useful in controlling his emotions and more primitive urges. He liked to feel in control of himself. He was Father Cain, Anglican priest and son of Lex and Lorna Sandeman. He knew who he was, a servant of god and a man of faith. 

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The Colonel read the three files in front of him simultaneously. Something might be there in the studies of the three that might help him determine the best plan of action to recapture 493. It was ironic really how the '09 escape had provided them with further study material. Initially, the idea had been to keep two in the barracks as comparison of blind tests to assess temperament but the escape had created a third scenario. Now 495 and 493 were subjected to the outside world and 494 was the contained lab rat. This had allowed Manticore the chance to study the viability of that genetic code in various situations and subjected to different stimuli. 

As a soldier, 494 was showing amazing promise. The strong genetic disposition for weapons and combat, as well as an incredibly high level of cognitive skills, showed the value of the genetic strain. However, the committee was still worried that there may be a problem with mental instability due to the recent murders bearing barcodes. These kills were planned for a reason, he just wanted to know what that was. It appeared that undisciplined and left to his own devices 493 had reverted to the more basic animal instincts, his need to hunt driven by his blood lust but there was something more sinister with him marking his victims.

Ironically the stability that was expressed in 495 confused Deck. It intrigued him how in the outside world a Manticore creation could live without indulging their more primitive driven animal traits. Sure the '09 escapees had survived, but their initial training had awoken in them an appreciation of their abilities. The foster parents of 495 had reported he was a well-adjusted individual. The couple, codenamed Adam and Eve, had managed to prevent 495 from realising his unusual heritage. He needed to examine this further. Maybe there was an answer there as to why this kid had survived and 493 had become volatile. 

He flicked quickly back through the files again. Hoping to see something that would help so he could find out what had gone wrong with 493 and fast. Ben was on a self-destructive path and any clue to what had triggered his psychotic behaviour could prevent this turning into a complete disaster. There was still the possibility that he was salvageable. He knew 493's face, thanks to the others, but he also needed to understand his mind.


	2. Cracks in the world

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Reality Check

By Rowe

Thankyou to my wonderful betas, Sorrow and JensEnigma. Check out their great new posting board for regular updates of this fiction and other DA fiction. The Broken World at http://sorrow.hyperboards.com/index.cgi

Chapter 2: Cracks in the world…

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The light that filtered into the warehouse cast deep shadows. Dirty and disused, the smell of chemicals was still strong enough to burn his nose a little. He used the niggling pain as a reminder that he was a soldier and he should show no weakness. He delved inside himself to seek the calm self-assurance of the soldier he knew he should be and came up empty. Turning to his weapon collection he started the task of cleaning his arsenal. 

On the wall, his hastily scrawled letters served as another stark declaration of how tentative his grasp on his mind was quickly becoming. What was his mission? What was his duty? He shook his head to clear the doubts that whispered maddeningly in there. The mantras of his childhood echoed in his head, as did the sound of combat boots marching in precise unity. They taunted him with his inadequacy. 

He had placed his donation at the feet of the Blue Lady. One of the few places he felt at peace was under her gaze. Yet the doubts were growing stronger; not in her, never in her, but in himself. His gifts would allow her to keep him safe, make him strong. She would help him because he was NOT a nomalie. He didn't want to be taken away to the bad place.

The Church had been empty but for the priest who had watched him in silence. He had often wondered about their faith in books and words. His faith was in someone real and she would protect him. As he had turned to leave, he had nodded to the man in black for allowing him his silence. His thoughts had still been in turmoil as he had left her, he knew that he needed to find a new high place in this city. Somewhere he could go to think. A space outside of this world that he had no real place to be in. Somewhere he could be free.

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His briefing had been straightforward. His mission laid out before him looked simple enough. He still needed to work on his cover to allow his infiltration of the Berrisford household. As a concert pianist of some note he would need to able to convince them of his authenticity. His recovery of information to assess the danger Robert Berrisford posed to Manticore was his initial mission parameters. He would be updated further when he had completed that task.

Adjusting his posture slightly to accommodate his aching back, he lifted his hands and placed them confidently down again. He had been at it for hours now, but he knew he couldn't stop until he was fully prepared. His fingers flew nimbly over the keys. His mind processed the sheet music, the sounds and the visuals quickly and efficiently. The notes flowed smoothly, rhythmically, precisely. 

As he brought the piece to a close his instructor stepped forward nodding slightly. "Well done, 494. You appear to have mastered the technical aspect of playing admirably." The instructor paused, 494 turned his head towards him awaiting further drill exercises. "But to make your playing more believable you will need to start exercises on expression." 

At the look of puzzlement of the young man's face he elaborated on this. 

"Music requires emotional input. The better this is applied, the more enjoyable a piece becomes. A pianist of Lehane's stature would be required to inject something more than technical ability into his performance. I will work on that with you." 494 nodded his acknowledgment but still remained a little confused to what was being asked of him.

The instructor pressed a button on a control, the room filled with music. It was the piece he had just completed but the passion with which it was being played changed it, transformed it into a tragic story. The bittersweet melody, supported by quietly sad chords was enhanced by the more flexible use of time and dynamics. As the music swept to a climax and finished, 494 let his breathing return to normal again. He had been caught up by the exquisite sorrow hidden in the music. This was going to be far harder than learning technical brilliance.

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The young man opened the car door for his wife. She gently lay the baby in the car capsule and strapped him in. She knew that he was their job but she was already attached to the little blighter. Still only 3 months old the child was already growing fast. She knew he would not remember this place, he would not bear that scar. He wasn't unique, she understood that, but for now he was theirs and that was all that mattered.

Her husband watched as she finished buckling the child in. He looked at the seemingly defenceless infant and smiled. This child bore no barcode; he was unbranded. The insertion of that DNA had been forgone to allow simpler assimilation into the outside world. He had been designed for murder and destruction but maybe this one had a chance for something more. He started the ignition quickly as his wife took her seat. Manticore had always given him the chills- so cold and efficient. For now, they wouldn't need to comeback. The only contact was to be the filing of regular reports on the boy's progress; on his new son, Cain.

He awoke lathered in a cold sweat. The nightmares were plaguing him again; violent and incredibly bloody. He ran his hand up through his damp hair, tousling it into spikes. His heart was still pounding loudly in his ear, every beat in exhilaration not fear. They were getting worse and more vivid. He could almost taste the blood, for some reason he craved it. 

Slipping out of bed, he dressed quietly. He knew that it was time for some desperately needed meditation to calm his soul. He was revolted by what he was seeing or at least he tried to tell himself that. A small part of his mind whispered dangerously seductive things to him, tantalising him into the darkness. His troubled thoughts meant sleep was to be once again forgone.

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He addressed the mortician and flashed his credentials. Another body, another victim of 493's madness. Lydecker looked at the corpse seeing only failure. The pattern was getting more pronounced, and it was getting harder to throw the authorities off the scent. Disposing of evidence could only discourage them so much from looking further into the murders. More difficult was silencing his victims' families.

The victims appeared to be totally random. Were they people he knew? At least he was moving from place to place. That had prevented people looking too closely at what was going on. When it became clear that there was a serial murder on the loose he would be unable to control things so easily. His power of influence could only stretch so far.

Once again the teeth were missing. This might be the important clue as to why he was killing. The problem was, he had no idea what that clue meant or whether it was just a random fixation of a mad man. He shook his head at that thought. He knew what that would mean for the others. All would suffer if it came to that. It was becoming urgent that he find 493. It needed to be before this escalated any further. The world was not ready for one of his kids to explode. 


	3. Opening up to reveal inside

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Reality Check

By Rowe

Thankyou Mel, for the wonderful betaeing. And a special thankyou to Kiwi for helping to find Ben when I lost him. Check out this and my other fics at The Broken World [http://sorrow.hyperboards.com/index.cgi][1]

Chapter 3: Opening up to reveal inside…

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A cool breeze brushed across his face as he gazed down at the cold, grey city below. Concentrating, he extended his focus to see as far as he could. He watched the people scurry about with a sense of purpose. He was looking for any distraction to escape from the questions plaguing his mind. Each kill used to bring him some sense of accomplishment, a completed mission. They had always served as a reaffirmation of his faith and loyalty. Now he just felt empty. The hunger and need were rising faster this time.

Max was staring up at him as he let his imagination run wild. He wanted to make her smile, that smile always made his world seem less grey. She lay on her bunk, her dark hair cropped short and those expressive eyes shining. Making shadow puppets to amuse them and stories that gave them answers, he had a place and purpose within his family's lives.

Ben let a tear slide down his face as the New York skyline brought him back to the present. Manticore may have been brutal in their methods, but at least there they had had each other. In this hostile outside world people lived inside their own small cocoons, insulated from the pain and suffering around them. Wrapped up in their own misery. The fears and pain of his unit had been shared, it had made them a family, one where no one was ever alone. Now he was never anything but alone, especially amongst the bustling crowds.

Here he was a revved up killing machine sitting idly around like a discarded toy; made to feel useless without a mission. Anger started to push the pain back. He relished it as it gave him a greater sense of control. Roughly he scrubbed the back of his hand across his eyes. "_A soldier didn't cry." _He admonished himself for indulging in such weakness. He stiffened his back and glared out at the world for causing him this pain. It was definitely time to move on. The memories were catching up with him too quickly in this city now, haunting him of what he had lost. He needed to once again escape and evade.

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The hotel room door slid open easily, the lock hadn't been hard to pick. He could hear the shower running in the other room. Pausing to allow himself orientation in the room, he heard the water shut off. Assessing the best point of attack, he quickly he stepped nearer to the opening door. Lehane moved out of the bathroom with a towel wrapped around his waist and fumbled on the top of the dresser. X5-494 chose then to make his presence known to his mark.

"Are you looking for these?" He raised the wire-rimmed eyeglasses and placed them on his face. As a look of stunned fear crossed the other man's face, 494 moved the garrotte around his neck and twisted till the body collapsed limply to the floor. Now to assume the identity. He looked across the surface of the dresser and didn't see what he was looking for. Processing through the clothes hanging on the back of the door, he found the man's wallet. Quickly disposing of the driver's license he replaced it with his provided forgery. Now, he was Simon Lehane, concert level pianist and new piano instructor. His new persona snapped briskly into place.

Moving over to the bed he assessed efficiently the available wardrobe. Berrisford was a middle aged, conservative businessman, rather wealthy: a dark suit and tie seemed the most appropriate choice of attire. He took the glasses off again as they made him squint, Manticore soldiers definitely didn't need further optical enhancement. Lifting his own kit to the bed, he found the plain glass pair that he had been supplied with. Putting them beside his assembled outfit, he undressed to shower before preparing to enter the Berrisford world.

He ran over his mission in preparation as the hot water flowed over him. His entry point was the girl, young and an easy mark. Though she was bright, she should still be easy to fool into accepting his assumed identity. If he was lucky she would provide him with better access to the house. As he shut off the water and reached for a towel, he looked coldly at the body in the doorway. It would be removed by Manticore before he returned but for now it left a bad taste in his mouth. Moving out into the other room, he focused on getting ready to initiate the mission proper.

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The church was now quiet but Cain had been there for hours and seen many come and go. He had come here looking for peace last night. The visual horrors of his dreams were still uppermost in his mind. All the meditation and quiet contemplation in the world didn't seem enough to erase their vividness. He looked up at the cross and for the first time in his life he doubted himself. How could he even conceive such terrible things? Feelings, not of fear but of a barely harnessed power, haunted him. Was he really capable of killing in such a brutal manner and taking pleasure from it?

Rising to his feet, he moved forward to the front of the aisle and uttered a simple heartfelt prayer. A prayer for forgiveness for being so unworthy, for even allowing such evil thoughts to enter his mind. He was frightened by his own weakness to dismiss the thoughts. The statue of the Lord looked down on him placidly. Its features were in gentle repose. They contrasted strongly with the anguished and terrified expression on the face of the man in his dreams as his hands had moved in for the kill. 

Turning, he left for the sanctuary of his parent's house. There he knew he would find the comfort and security, which he sorely needed at the moment. Family and a sense of belonging, he was in dire need of those. Inside his head he was feeling like a violent sociopath, he wanted to feel normal again. He needed to be with the ones he loved.

With a renewed sense of direction, he quickened his stride. His parents had always been his rock. Their love and quiet support had driven him onwards in his search of a life's purpose. It was the pride they felt in his chosen mission in life that gave him his greatest happiness. They would reaffirm to him that he was not abnormal.

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Lydecker sighed heavily. The trail had gone cold again. It had been several weeks now since 493 had made his last kill. Last time this had happened it had signalled that he was on the move. This meant the search area would need to become wider again, they would need to keep an eye on the other cities. He looked at the photos of the victims arranged across his desk. A total of five bodies had now been identified with the same MO. He had been to Chicago, and lately New York, where could he be heading next?

He looked at one of the last photos he had of X5-493, Ben, before the escape. The child had shown no sign of this then. It may never have been a problem if he had still been contained. Shaking his head, he couldn't dismiss the feeling that he had failed this kid. He looked at the wall and the photos of the other '09 escapees. For now, he would have to shift his focus back to finding the others. Maybe they could provide him with a lead. For all their sakes he hoped to keep what they were under wraps. Transgenics roaming loose and trained to kill was hardly comforting news to the ordinary man.

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   [1]: http://sorrow.hyperboards.com/index.cgi



	4. Things better kept hidden

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Reality Check

By Rowe

Thankyou Mel for your wonderful betaeing and encouragement. Check out this and my other fics at The Broken World [http://sorrow.hyperboards.com/index.cgi][1]

Chapter 4: Things better kept hidden…

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It felt cramped in here. The smell of the fruit and vegetables was starting to really bother him too. It looked like he might have to jump ship at the next stop. Many years before he had realised that though he missed having company, he hated travelling in the company of others, or more specifically in the company of 'norms'. He had taken to stowing away in freight, whether it be truck or train. It meant he could relax, even sleep, knowing he wasn't being watched and the threat of exposure was minimal. He sighed heavily and tried to stretch all his muscles as best he could.

This time he had decided to try heading to a warmer climate, somewhere further south. Maybe a beach area where the people would be happier and far less grey and cold. He needed something to break him out of this self-reflection that was threatening to totally engulf him. His kit sat behind him and he leant back on it. It gave him a small amount of cushioning and also a little comfort. Inside was all he had left in this world.

The truck was jolting him more than he liked. Luckily he was tired enough that when he slept this wouldn't wake him. He focused his mind and gradually shut down. Still remaining alert enough to be ready for any unexplained threat, his body relaxed and let his thoughts rest. It gave him a brief chance to escape his pain; that was until the nightmares began. Filled with faces of his past. He stalked them, hunted them down, caught them and disposed of them with brutal efficiency. The worst was the one where his victim was Max.

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The sheer size of the complex astounded him as he approached the gate. It was a great reminder of the power this man must have as a place like this was not common in Post –pulse Seattle. Manticore was right to see him as a possible threat. He schooled his features and pressed the buzzer. At the request to identify, he announced himself as Simon Lehane. As the gate swung open to allow him entrance, he relaxed a little. He had made it past the first possible stumbling block, now to fully convince the occupants. He approached the large double doors and stepped into a world so different to the hard cold walls of Manticore.

Opulent. It was the only word he could find that fully encompassed the obvious money that surrounded him. The security man had allowed him entrance and lead him through to the music room. He recognised her immediately from her photo in the dossier, but her vivacity was unexpected. Keeping his focus on his job, he settled to begin the lesson with a professional aloofness that he was sure would be the 'norm'. She injected her animation into her playing. Her technique was good, but it was her emotional expression that made her playing better. Giving her the instruction to watch her dynamics made him sound like a real teacher. Well, he knew constructive criticism was essential.

With an infectious smile, she broke into a light rendition of a jaunty tune he didn't recognise. He scanned through his mind all the pieces they had made him listen to at Manticore. This definitely wasn't one of them. It was totally different, but he liked its fun playfulness. Smiling back at her, 494 told her so. Rachel's focus moved to the door, as he sensed the approaching man. This was going to be the real test of his cover. He shook the man's offered hand and introduced himself. He tensed slightly waiting for the response and relaxed when Berrisford replied. "Good to meet you son."

He watched as Berrisford moved to the piano and stroked his daughter's hair. The love between them was clearly evident. Displays of such affection were totally unfamiliar to him. He felt a little awkward but watched enthralled anyway. This world was beginning to feel very foreign to him.

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The warmth of his mother's hug helped. His father's firm shoulder grasp gave him more strength. Cain smiled back at them but they could clearly see that he was troubled. He didn't want them to know though. It would be too much to see the looks of disgust on their faces if he told them what he saw. This was something horrible he needed to keep hidden away inside him. Locked away so people could see that he had this sort of thing in his mind's imagination.

Home, the sheer normality of it all settled him further. This was where he belonged. He smiled more reassuringly at his parents, trying to convince them he was alright, that he was always alright when he was around them. "Bad day at the office." He tried to lighten the mood with a forced laugh. As they appeared to relax he felt better. This way they wouldn't push him to reveal a part of himself that scared him and would terrify them. The conversation turned to the daily grind as his mother moved off to get dinner ready. The domesticity of the act brought a genuine smile to his face. He loved it because it reminded him of how wonderful his childhood had been, wrapped up in the cocoon of love and security.

Behind his back, Cain never saw the looks of concern his parents exchanged. He didn't know that they feared far greater things than nightmares were his problem. They knew it was time, Manticore would need to know that things were changing. What they needed to know was what had triggered this haunted look in him? Had he begun to discover what he really was? His reluctance to share frightened them even more. Were they about to lose their son back into the hell that he had escaped from as a baby?

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Deck stared down at the photo of Max in his hand. This was the one he most wanted to find. Her and Zack would give him the best chance to retrieve X5-493. He knew that was not the only reason that he wanted to find her but it gave him an excuse for his emotional attachment. Those three had definitely been the driving force of the unit, the reason he so regretted their escape. The lost potential in those soldiers was a disaster. Now one of the ones with the most potential was self-destructing slowly leaving a trail of debris across the countryside that might bring them all down. Damn him for using the barcodes- it brought unwanted attention to them. The Manticore Committee was most unhappy about that fact and wanted him shut down now.

Using his own barcode was the puzzling part. It was a unique identifier, something was definitely troubled in the mind of this soldier. He lifted his coffee cup to his lips and drank the now cold liquid. It was just another of the clues Ben seemed to be leaving, almost as though he hoped to be caught. It was like a giant game of Escape and Evade in which there were no geographical boundaries. Leaving little breadcrumbs along the way, he seemed to be urging them to catch him, to stop him. Lydecker shook his head, he really didn't want to have to get into the head of a psychotic killer, but 493 was issuing the invitation with every move he was making.

   [1]: http://sorrow.hyperboards.com/index.cgi



	5. And things that needed to, come out into...

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Reality Check

By Rowe

My wonderful beta, Mel, a huge thanks for the great job you do.

Chapter 5: And things that needed to, come out into the light…

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For a short while he had almost found paradise. This place was full of welcome distractions to both the flesh and mind. The atmosphere was buoyant and his pain had receded back into him. The room he had taken was at the back of a small run-down hotel. No one asked questions there. He could come and go as he pleased. It reminded him of the only place he had ever really called home, spartan and functional at best. 

He could prowl the streets with some anonymity, without feeling that he was too exposed. For a few weeks the predator in him had remained silent. During that time his senses were still alert, danger didn't stop happening even if he wasn't being dangerous. He sometimes sensed people watching him, staring at him. Sometimes he felt that he was more than a little paranoid. It rather unnerved him because he didn't think that he looked any different or stood out. At least he tried not to. 

On bad days, he felt that locking himself away in his room was the only way he could get away from the prying eyes. Then he had only himself for company, that wasn't all that healthy for him either. It gave him far too much time to think about things he knew he was much better not to. He wasn't human, and no matter how hard he tried he couldn't become one. The despair would overwhelm him. This was never his world. It belonged to those too naive to know what actually went bump in the night. He desperately missed where it all had made sense, where they knew who he was, and so did he. When he spent time alone he started to remember how it was. Then he started to miss it. This was when things always turned bad, because then he would also begin to question his purpose.

He could feel it again, the tightening in his gut. He tried to ignore it, he tried to ignore 493 talking in his mind, telling him it was time. The need to hunt was rising fast, it had come upon him quicker this time. With a predator's eyes he looked around him, assessing his prey. He needed a new lair.

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Her lessons had been progressing well. She was bright and bubbly and injected her personality into her playing. Her warmth was attractive. She had asked him to dinner tonight, as her escort, to a formal dinner with her father's work contacts. It was a natural progression from the time they had been spending together over the past few weeks. She appeared to enjoy his company, which was making his job easier. At the debriefing his superiors had appeared excited by the prospect. They saw it as a good opportunity to further investigate her father by promoting further interest in the daughter. He was to encourage her to spend time with him. They had asked him outright whether she had a romantic interest in him. He had very little experience in the area of 'romantic interest', how was he to know what the girl was thinking. He knew she liked his company, drawing out the time they spent after her lessons. He enjoyed her company too, he realised. When in her presence he sometimes forgot he was a soldier on a mission and just got swept up in her enthusiasm. He wasn't disappointed that they were encouraging him to spend more time with her.

Dinner was a sumptuous affair. Berrisford was a wonderful host. As coffee was served the talk turned to business. The conversation was complex, obviously boring to Rachel. He saw when she signalled him, indicating for him to follow her. Excusing himself politely he moved over to her. He saw her father's look of approval, deep down he felt like a fraud. 

"Come on," she grabbed his hand and pulled him towards the door. Exiting onto the balcony, he looked back reluctantly, he knew that he should've been staying to listen and maybe find out more of Berrisford's plans for Manticore. Rachel urged him on. Torn between conflicting orders of gathering information and furthering his acquaintance with her, he let himself be swept along. He was just following orders, he tried to reassure himself.

As they snuck into the pool room, 494 enjoyed a frisson of illicit pleasure. They were fugitives from his true mission at the moment. He didn't normally ignore priority orders. She gathered his hands in hers and she declared him a funny one, he panicked for a second., Had she seen beyond it his cover? Was she questioning his legitimacy? With relief he realised she was talking about his interest in the technical genetics talk of her father and those she called his 'cronies'. Coming from Manticore, he'd found it interesting. When he told her that he wasn't like most boys she seemed sort of pleased, he enjoyed a jolt of pleasure at this.

As Rachel moved closer he was mesmerised. When she indicated the pool and asked if he'd like to swim, he wasn't sure what do and hesitantly agreed. As she started to move her dress straps down her shoulders, he stood trapped frozen in fascination. Things were getting out of his control very quickly. This was something far outside his training. Turning shy she asked him to turn around, he hastily complied and began to undress himself. His mind was going a million miles an hour as he started to question what he should so. The splash of the water was unexpected, he turned startled. He had been totally unaware of her position, as he'd been caught up in his revelry. 

As he entered the pool and moved over towards her he knew he was totally out of his depths. He felt shy and awkward, something he had never really felt before. He'd been trained to be confident in his abilities and actions.

Her radiant natural beauty drew him closer. She shyly spoke, her eyes shining up at him. "In case you hadn't noticed, I've been sort of throwing myself at you for the past few weeks. Don't you like me?"

"I like you" he couldn't help himself, it came unbidden from inside. As she kissed him, her soft lips pressed against his, his analytical mind for the first time in his life went completely blank. 

"I like you a lot". As he moved to kiss her again his mind kicked back in. _"What the hell was he doing?"_ 494 mentally chastised himself. He knew he was utterly compromised, he had broken the cardinal rule of espionage, he'd gotten involved with the target, or in this case the target's daughter. He couldn't let them know, he knew what they would do to him if they did. As far as they were concerned he was still the loyal soldier, he was just a little confused as to whom he was supposed to be loyal to. 

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He wasn't crazy. This was the one thing he needed to be sure of. He also wanted to somehow be reassured that he wasn't actually capable of committing those atrocities he had envisaged in his dreams. So much blood, so much fear from his victims. Thinking about it now made him gag. He forced himself to move through the crowd. The smell of the sweaty bodies around him was overwhelming his already tenuous control over the contents of his stomach. 

Eyes everywhere, staring at him, watching his every move. Cain mentally shook himself free of the paranoia that was taking a hold in his mind. He looked around the market place puzzled; he got a strange sense that something was not right. Not something he could put a finger on, but a feeling of imminent danger that was sending tingles up his spine. His immediate overwhelming instinct was to leave, so he followed it.

Back at the parish he felt relief at being within the walls he called home. It was his sanctuary. The television in his kitchen was switched on and with horror he watched the broadcast relay the news. A gang massacre had occurred just moments after he had fled the market. For him knowing that his instincts had been right brought conflicting emotions. He hadn't been imagining the threat, something real had happened. That meant maybe there was something more to these nightmares he had been having. Ever since they had started the world had begun to feel surreal. It was as though all his senses had been heightened, enhancing his perception of what was happening around him. It was like a part of him had been lying dormant and had now awakened. It scared Cain, this dormant part, for was it that which was capable of the violence he had seen his own hands carry out.

As he closed his eyes that night, and his mind slipped into unconsciousness, the eyes started to crowd in on him. They were almost inhuman in their intensity, many showed incredible pain and fear. The images were driving him towards madness, driving him deep into the dark recesses of his soul. He reached out for his faith in desperation. It was his rock against the overwhelming feelings of despair he could sense all around him, his grasp was tenuous but it held. No deaths were to haunt him tonight but there was the underlying threat of violence, always there, always stalking him. As the eyes became faces, he knew that he surveyed them with predator's eyes. He felt his pulse surge, time to find his next prey. A small-frightened voice inside him cried "_Noooooo_".

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"Damn it all", he cursed angrily at the report that was in front of him. Now was not a good time for 495 to show signs of imploding as well. The details of the report suggested he was becoming aware. Deck had a feeling that there was a connection between 493 and 495 behaviour. The psychic connections between these kids were hard to predict. Later series like the X7s had been deliberately linked but the earlier ones like the X5s, it had come naturally in some. Usually sparked by cases of heightened emotional trauma. Thankfully X5-494 showed no sign of being linked into 493. Or maybe as a good soldier he was just better at hiding it, or better prepared to deal with it. Lydecker mused on that fact for a while. He had better tell Sandoval to increase his vigilance on the boy.

There was still no sign of 493, it had been a little while and he was getting impatient. The faint hope that the killing spree was over was tantalising but unrealistic. No, when this sort of psychosis was seen, it just only ever got messier. It was awful but he wished the kid would do something to help him find him. They needed to bring him in, bring him home. They could deal with it all here. He was one of them, one of his kids. Other rogues had been successfully reindoctrinated; he saw no reason that with a little psyops therapy they couldn't recover Ben as well.

In his fitful sleep these days, all Lydecker ever saw was visions of barcodes and tattoos. His mind constantly puzzled over the connection. They would also need to move in on 495 before he lost it. Bring the lost sheep into the fold. It would be difficult to indoctrinate someone of his age but better that than two wild men hunting the general populace. Maybe he would be able to lead him to a few clues, to help him find the elusive Ben.


	6. Till the darkness overwhelms

****

Reality Check

By Rowe

Thankyou to my lovely betas, Sorrow Reminisce and Jens Enigma.

All my fics are also posted at The Broken World and Gumboot Mafia. These are where you will find my NC17 chapters and are the places I first update.

Chapter 6: Till the darkness overwhelms

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Miami had been a welcome refuge for a little while but once again he was fast descending into his own private hell. The world wanted things from him that he wasn't sure that he could provide; sanity and self-control. He was a killer, he was a hunter, he was a soldier of the Blue lady. He needed to prove himself once again, to be judged deserving of her love. His eyes took in only the weak and unworthy that surrounded him. He needed someone who he could replenish her strength with, an appropriate victim and credible prey to hunt. They would be his gift to her, to help her grow strong. Shaking his head, Ben realised somehow that it was all wrong, that his mind was not really operating in harsh reality. The internal conflict raged inside, his moral ambiguity, bred from years of Manticore indoctrination told him killing was right, it was what he was bred to be but his exposure to the world outside of those walls had clouded his ethical beliefs. He felt so lost for a moment. There were already too many things that contradicted what he had been taught. Then with cold clarity his mind focused back on his mission; he was the Blue Lady's chief executioner, now his duty was to hunt and gather offerings for her. His faith and his duty settled his mind. No longer did doubts plague him as he turned into 493, the transgenic predator.

It was in his makeup. To feel the exhilaration of the hunt, like a drug that was incredibly addictive. The pumping adrenalin of that childhood chase was still fresh in his mind. The attack of that nomolie; it had brought surging to the surface what he was inside of this human looking body. The primal needs were satisfied for the first time. It had allowed him to truly be what he was made to be. Now he killed for her and he enjoyed doing it. Deep inside he suppressed the doubts as to how right that was. He warred against the guilt he felt, that was just a useless and weak human emotion.

The streets were different at night. He had the advantage, the darkness did not hamper him for he could call on his enhanced senses to help him hunt. Like a sleek black panther he prowled, sampling the air looking at each person as he passed till he could see the fear in their eyes. The fear was what saved them. He wanted only the fearless for they were strong. Ben's hazel eyes fixed on a likely candidate and he began to subtly stalk his chosen quarry. Waiting for the opportunity to present itself to pounce, he followed undetected. He could be patient. 

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Trying to divert her attention and to ease himself out of a situation he did not feel in control of, 494 moved away from her and started to swim. The intensity of the moment had been frightening, it had aroused doubts which were something he had seldom had to deal with before. He tried to keep his distance as she playfully splashed him. Keeping his emotions masked he splashed her in return; playing was something he had never had the opportunity as a child to experience. Fun, he was having fun and it felt somehow wrong to be doing this, enjoying his time with her. He knew this would all end badly but she was drawing him back into her arms as she wound them around his neck. Worst thing was, all he wanted to do was hold her too.

She wanted to spend more time together, it was obvious but he tried to keep his distance. His added closeness would eventually give him the access he needed to get her father's computer and download the files for Manticore to peruse. It would only be a matter of time before the mission became more deadly. He had heard enough and seen enough to realise that Berrisford thought he was doing the right thing. He was a good man; a devoted father. Yet, hard as he tried, 494 just couldn't stay away from her, or maintain professional distance. It was becoming increasingly difficult to keep his mind on the job. The time he spent with her just increased his confusion. 

He knew he needed to get the information on what Berrisford knew, the computer was in a wing of the house he hadn't yet explored with Rachel. Taking the opportunity when it presented itself to him, he moved stealthily through the house and into the office. Quickly hacking through the password and encryption he accessed the files he needed, inserting the disk he started to copy and erased any evidence of his being there. He had just about completed the download when he heard someone approaching. Seeing it was Rachel, he grabbed the disk and moved forward to intercept her.

As she approached him he knew he needed to distract her. He gave her a feeble excuse for his being in there, flattered her a bit. He could still see the doubts and he knew he would need to take it further. Using their intimacy he cupped his hand around her cheek. The kiss began as sweet but he found he wanted more. He deepened it, needing to feed off her vitality to make him feel like he was more than a hollow shell with a stolen name. She pulled back a little startled by the intensity of his kiss. 

With whispered words she shattered his world. "I love you." The shaking was involuntary. He couldn't have controlled it if he had tried. She was concerned but he could never tell her that she had just unlocked a part of him that had never seen the light. To be loved and feel love. So new and so intoxicating, and he also realised so very, very bad for all of their futures.

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He couldn't take much more, he could feel his grip on sanity being torn away. His faith, what could it do for him? He sought peace but received none. Now his waking hours were plagued by doubts about the terror of his sleeping ones. There was no one who he could turn to who would not look at him in horror. So inside he struggled with his turmoil, so very alone. 

The world outside was too overwhelming now. He could smell and see things that he had never ever noticed before. It was making him feel like a circus freak. Something was so very wrong with him. The horror of knowing that something was going to happen but having done nothing, haunted him. All those dead bodies in the market, their blood was on his hands. The blood of people he had chosen not to save. He felt the guilt drowning him.

He started a bit as the phone rang shrilly disrupting his attempt at peaceful contemplation. It was his mother, he could hear the concern for him in her voice. Trying to reassure her that he was fine, she finally got him to agree to coming out to their home for lunch. He wanted to see them badly, but he felt so much turmoil and guilt about what he was going through. He didn't want to have to lie to them again, tell them nothing was wrong when he knew they could see through him. Cain admitted to himself that his parent's call was a possible a chance to work through his confusion. He knew he would need to let them know some of what he was experiencing, but the dreams, they didn't need to know about those.

In the end his parent's call was too late to save him from his demons. As the sector police entered the church, Cain felt something sparked to life inside of him; adrenalin surged. For the briefiest of instances he felt his instincts jump into hyperawareness. The urge to flee was strong, as was the one to fight. Normally a passive and gentle man he managed to subdue these but feared them and their source. He was almost relieved as they led him away for questioning. He knew that he was innocent. For the time being he had committed no crime but those perceived by his imagination. They would hold him for a while. In this Post-pulse world things worked slowly. While they were holding him he could relax. For then he knew he could do no one any damage behind bars.

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They had been too slow. This predicament complicated things no end. The sector police had managed to intercept 495 before he had a chance to reach the pick up point. Any attempt to try and gain Cain's release was going to be difficult due to damning fact of his identical DNA to Ben's. Lydecker knew that the forensic evidence would prove 495 guilty. His team had cleaned up most of the debris but surely they were some things they left behind. Damn Ben for starting this all. It was going to bring things to Cain's attention that he wasn't yet ready to know. He hadn't been prepared yet.

Deck was pacing. He needed a solution fast. There was always the use of his government power. It would call a lot of attention, him pulling rank. It always aroused someone's curiosity or suspicion. However, it was a good way to classify anything they knew, to hush it up while regaining custody of Manticore property. He wanted to meet this boy, the reports could never encompass the emotional response of the subject. If they went through official channels 495 would come more quietly, be less traumatised. Psyops could then work more constructively with him. Maybe even gain a clue as to what was going on the mind of the rogue X5.

He smiled wryly when he thought of how this boy would be subjected to things that would push the envelope of his sanity. Hopefully 495 would be strong enough to endure the mind probes and indoctrination. He didn't need him psychotic too. For 495, his former life was now lost to him forever.


	7. And the pain and suffering begins

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Reality Check

By Rowe

Thankyou to Enigma and Sorrow for their help in trying to remain true to the characters.

Disclaimer: DA belongs to Fox and J.Cameron.

Chapter 7: And the pain and suffering begins. 

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The buzz of the needle vibrated up his arm as Ben made his mark, stamping it indelibly onto his victim's neck. This one had squirmed too much. He had been forced to render him unconscious early in the procedure. Movement would be bad, he needed this to be accurate. The anticipation was starting to charge inside of him as he finished the preparation of the man still out cold in the chair. When his task was completed to his satisfaction he studied the replica. The reddened skin the only clear indication of the recent application.

His arsenal was once again unpacked and arrayed on the rack behind him. To make his hunt more competitive he always liked to arm his game. It heightened the unpredictability, adding that variable of uncertainty to the outcome. Russian roulette, giving them a chance, however minuscule, that they could successful escape and evade him. It rendered them a sense of hope for survival that made them run faster, fight harder. Time to begin his own psychological preparation while he waited for the man to regain his senses. Ben moved to his position and began his breathing. Slowly he focused until all the distractions were erased from his consciousness. His mind ran its mantra, the words on the wall solidifying in his thoughts as flashes from his childhood indoctrination reinforced them. Finally, snapping back to the present he was ready to begin. 

The blood pounded powerfully in his ears as he released his now awake quarry. The thirst was upon him. The sweet blood overrode the acidic stench of fear. He was reliving it. Reliving that day when his soul had been first freed of the confines of humanity. He had been as one with that primitive urge. She, their Blue Lady, had been given their gifts at the high place that night. The cold of the roof top and been the home of their shrine. The small picture of her acted as their icon to acknowledge their reverence. He had held the others enthralled with his explanation of her role in their life, as protector. As the teeth were handed to him by each individual he had felt a surge of pride in his family. They were willing to sacrifice of themselves as their faith in her was strong. Now, in the present, he was ready to renew his covenant with the Blue Lady. He needed to supply her with the strength to protect him.

Lifting his nose to the air like a hound, he searched for the man's scent. This one was sloppier than the last, not really a worthy prey. He was disappointed in his choice but knew that it was too late to change. The trail of flight blazed out for Ben's enhanced eyes to see. Crouching low, he followed the path laid out for him. Sighting the man he moved swiftly in for the kill. He wasn't the type to play with his captives, he wasn't sadistic. Reaching out he took a death grip upon the back of the man's neck. The final snap as the man's vertebrae cracked in his hand signalled his success. But this mission wasn't over, he pulled out his tools to begin his gory task. 

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Standing stiffly as he received his final orders, he carefully tried to hide his discomfort. The dismay he felt was quickly hidden behind a well-practiced mask of indifference. 494 was to make sure that Berrisford and his daughter were taken care of the next morning when the target took his daughter to school. Manticore wanted to send a clear message out to all their suppliers, something decisive. They planned to make an example Berrisford. Their orders, though quite logical, brought him internal conflict. He was conflicted enough that he had even queried his orders. The rebuke for his attitude and the implied threat that was in Sandoval's voice was not lost on him. Years in Manticore training had developed in all of their soldiers, a healthy respect of the methodology used to deal with those that failed. 

As he left the Manticore facility to return to Seattle, he contemplated what he needed to do. Time had come to make the decision where his loyalties lay. His feelings for Rachel were confusing at best. He had no frame of reference to compare them with. In the end this Simon Lehane, the man she thought she loved, was never real anyway. He was a soldier in disguise with a difficult mission to complete. As he pushed his regrets to the back of his mind, 494 knew what needed to be done. Focusing on the road ahead, he tried to mentally reestablish his cover. He had a piano lesson to take when he got back, he needed to get his head back in the game.

By the time he had reached his destination he was once again Simon Lehane. When he entered the Berrisford home, he was promptly called to Berrisford's side. With sincere regret the man informed him that his position as piano teacher would no longer be carrying on as he was sending Rachel away. Business was not going well and he needed to send her to her grandparent's place. The regret on the man's face as he told him was evident. The sincerity made 494 feel even more like a phoney, and he awkwardly shook the man's hand. Rachel breezed in like a breath of fresh air. The distraction gave him a chance to compose himself again. 

Her lesson went off without a hitch. He watched her from beneath lowered lashes as she played, putting her whole body into the experience. She sprang to her feet after the allotted time was up. The work portion of his time was over, now she wanted to play. Her arms crept around him a her lips rose up to meet his, he let a sigh of contentment escape before he even had a chance to think about it. As she gently kissed him, he felt a twinge of doubt about Manticore and what they wanted him to do. The girl he held in his arms was innocent, yet he was ordered to coldly dispose of both her and her father just so they could send out a message. 

"_ Sir, I can eliminate Berrisford without involving the daughter. It just seems to me the collateral damage is an unnecessary_ ." His simple statement, so abruptly cut off, still ran through his head. The response had been so clipped and he had heeded the warning not to address the issue any further. That didn't stop him mulling it over inside of his own head, keeping his own counsel. He let himself enjoy the warmth of her company, telling himself it was just one last time.

***

The hotel room felt stuffy and claustrophobic as he prepared his material for the task efficiently. It was all simple enough. Plant the device under Berrisford's car then detonate it when they were both inside, make sure that the job was successful and then clear the area. His mission accomplished. The conflict still raged internally but his fear of retribution stifled them again. He managed with effort to dampen them back to a whisper he could ignore. It was over. His time with her was to finish now. The memory of her laughing, coyly approaching him, of her kissing him. Her whispered admission of love he allowed himself to privately cherish, but he wouldn't question his orders.

Completing his task, he closed the case quickly trying to shut away all the treacherous questions that were still haunting him. Tomorrow morning he was to complete the final phase, tonight was his last night away from home. He knew he should get some rest so he would be ready, but he didn't think sleep would be an option tonight.

***

As he lay down on the ground to place the C4 under the car chassis, he took one final steadying breath and competently placed the explosive device at the correct point. Glancing up at the house he saw her moving up stairs. With regret he moved swiftly up the driveway, hearing voices he sought cover and paused out of sight as Berrisford made his way to the car. The remote in his hand felt awkward and uncomfortable. For the first time in his life he was unsure whether he could do his job.

"_ Sometimes the right thing can go so wrong." _Her father's words flowed through 494's mind crystallising the truth. Something inside snapped, he knew he couldn't walk away, couldn't forget. She meant too much, how much he wasn't sure, but definitely worth fighting for. Making a decision he knew would most likely result in incredible back lash to him, he chose to openly defy his command. Moving back down the drive he entered the house to intercept her. He just couldn't go through with his orders, he needed to stop the madness now, to change all of their futures.

He moved quickly to confront her as she descended the curving staircase.With a desperation born out of fear for her life, he realised he needed to make her listen, to make her understand the seriousness of the situation, of him being there, of what he really was**.** He saw the confusion written all over her face at his unexpected presence before she spoke. This was not going to be easy. 

"Listen to me. You and your father need to leave town right now" She looked at him with wide eyes as she processed his request.

"I'll cover for you. I'll tell 'em that you left in the middle of the night. But you have got to go now." He grabbed hold of her trying to emphasise the seriousness of his request and how important this all was_. _She wanted explanations but he didn't know how much he could really tell her. Or how much time he had to make things right.
"I was sent here to kill your father. " He told her the truth, hoping that she wouldn't dismiss it and what he was saying. Even if he failed, Manticore would make sure someone else didn't. That someone else wouldn't need to be involved with these people, he had done all the reconnaissance work already. They would be faceless targets, like the many he, himself, had killed in the line of duty. He needed them to go, leave Seattle and the danger their lives were now in. It only seemed to frighten and confuse her more. 

He knew he had to play his trump card. "It was my job. You were my job.." It killed him inside to say it to her. She had become so much more than his mission but he needed her to understand why he was there in the first place. Her hand flew back and connected with his face in an abrupt slap. The crushing distress on her face tore him up inside and he was slow to react as she pushed passed him.

Her name erupted from his lips as his attempts to stop her resulted only in her cherished locket being clutched in his gloved fingers. He still needed to convince her to leave while they still could. Shouting her name frantically he followed, wanting her to stop and listen, to let him explain better. He descended the stairs and dealt with Berrisford's man as he tried to block his way. As the car came into sight, the explosion rocked him back. He was too late and now, he screamed her name in terror. Terror at what he had been party to and that he had failed in his attempt to save her from himself.

The black SUV pulled up beside him, the driver clutched a remote, identical to his, in his hand. They hadn't trusted him, as Sandoval had warned him, he had let them lose confidence in him and now he had been compromised. As they dragged him struggling away, his mind was on what had become of Rachel and not on his own future. He could not see one beyond the numbing pain of what he had just let happen. 

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The bars on the cell were a comfort to Cain's troubled mind. He'd been shown graphic pictures of the crimes he had been accused of. Ones he knew intimately but had not carried out. His stomach had wretched and deposited its contents on the floor of the interrogation room. His horror had been at seeing the reality of his dreams, not at what they had shown him. He couldn't comprehend why his fingerprints and his DNA was being used as proof. Was he really that insane? His mind refused to comprehend that he could be actually involved without him consciously knowing it. 

The men had shown him no mercy. Brutal murders brought disgust into play in the criminal justice system. The idea of removing teeth tended to suggest a sick and troubled mind. A mind that they were sure was his; the evidence even proved conclusively it was his work. Cain's faith was wavering. Who was he? What was he? He was quickly beginning to doubt that he had ever known. His stomach churned again, now empty, the bile all that was left to be exhumed. Ritualistic in its process, the killer was methodical and efficient. Post mortem arrangement of the body denoted a purpose to the actions. The taste of his own blood filled Cain from the cut lip he had suffered during interrogation. It mingled in his mind with the taste of the hunt. 

He huddled in the corner of his cold damp cell oblivious to his surrounds. For the moment he had been left to his own thoughts and fears. The flashes were coming now in his waking periods like vivid hallucinations. With photographic clarity he was watching a new murder unfold. The pictures they had shown him while they had been interrogating couldn't replicate the emotions he was being bombarded with now. These visions came with the added sensory overload of taste and smell that his body seemed to be craving like some addictive substance. 

Lost in his thoughts he was unaware when a blonde man with an air of authority strode into the cellblock. He only became conscious of his presence when the man flipped his badge at the guard and approached his cell. Something about this stranger put Cain on edge. He feared this visitor would be accompanied by another round of questioning. His nightmares had been becoming worse as the hours wore on and his mind was being overtaken by exhaustion. He could imagine that there was no greater torture to a man's soul than to be branded a psychotic killer. Cain was totally ingnorant about how much he still would have to learn.

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Looking at the frightened and confused man behind the bars of the dimly lit cell, Deck felt a twinge of guilt. Here was an innocent man, totally unaware of what he could have been, and who he really was. The eyes of the transgenic fixed on him warily. The Colonel knew what the sector police must have put him through, the battered state of his face told the story. Even with his accelerated healing powers he would look beaten for several days.

Turning to the sergeant he had brought with him he demanded Cain's release into this custody. The Manticore men he had brought with him had been instructed to be firm but gentle with 495. He didn't need to sustain any more damage than he had already been subjected to. They moved into position as the door slid open. As a cornered animal, they knew just how dangerous a wounded or confused X-series could be and were prepared.

Cain's eyes flickered at Deck with a question. One that Lydecker knew he could not answer for now. 

"Steady son, let's do this easy way and no one will get hurt." The soothing tone he used seemed to relax the tense stance of 495. This boy needed to be brought home. The tranquilliser in the guards hand posed a threat that he watched 495 perceive and cower away from. However, unlike the Manticore raised X5s, he showed no intention to fight. Actually, regretfully Deck admitted, he looked a little pathetic. What had happened to this man to crush his soul?

Deck snapped out of his musings as his men lifted the now unconscious body of the transgenic and carried him past. He had to do his clean up job now. Time to shut down the investigation and deal with the inquiries so that the matter would remain silent. He had other problems to deal with as well. Word had reached him that 494 had been compromised at the final stage of his mission. Everything seemed to be going to hell in a hand basket at the moment and he had that bitch Renfro in his face as well. Good thing was, at least he had two of them locked up and under observation. Now if they could just finally get a grasp on 493 they might be able to salvage the situation.


	8. Horror fills the eyes

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Reality Check

By Rowe

Disclaimer: DA characters belong to Fox and J.Cameron.

****

A/N: Thankyou to the wonderful beta job of Roonblah 

Chapter 8. Horror fills the eyes. 

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The taste of blood in his mouth set his spirit soaring. Fresh kills always did. It wasn't something he should enjoy. He understood that. But it brought him closer to the past, and for just a few seconds he could feel like he was back with his unit. He looked down at the body and felt a sense of euphoria. It was at these times that he could actually revel in what he was. Superior. Faster, stronger…better. He placed his offering in the cloth and stood, reluctant to leave this feeling behind. As the dawn approached he knew he had to leave. Turning he moved back through the brush, back to his lair. He would sleep and then he would go visit her with his grisly donation.

As the warehouse came into sight the feeling of predator began to subside. Once again he was just a man. This change always left him feeling a little bereft. He felt so much less than whole. Placing the offering on the ledge near his weapons, he replaced the gun he had armed his prey with. They were always too slow. Never managed to get him, well at least not yet. He stripped off and moved over to his bunk. The weariness was beginning to overcome him as the adrenalin in his system was being sopped up. Such a tremendous high was always followed by a depressing low. He liked to sleep to avoid that. His eyes closed and he blocked out the familiar world surrounding. He remained alert enough to sense any changes but for now he needed rest. His brain began to shut down and quickly sleep took hold of him. 

Tight restraints were holding him down. His face felt bruised and he was sure that he felt blood trickling slowly from the corner of his mouth. He could smell the antiseptic stench. Overly bright clinical lights were glaring down from overhead. As these lights shut off he felt a cold metal clamp grasp onto his face, prying his eye lids wide. Ben fought the pain in his mind. As the red light shot into his opened iris, he screamed in pain. The shock to his system woke him. His hands were clawing at his face in an attempt to remove the imagined implements of torture. The remnants of the nightmare were still hovering in his mind. The pain had seemed so real. He knew where it was, he knew it was what they would do to him. 

Time had come to move on. Try and escape this impending feeling of dread that was hanging over him. For the first time since he had escaped in '09, he wasn't too sure whether Manticore was where he belonged. This troubled him more than he wanted to think about. He quickly scrubbed the unbidden tears away. Without Manticore, he was nothing. He was losing himself a little more every day. Now he just needed to work out how to find his sense of self again.

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He didn't want to go back. Deep in the back of his mind he knew what they would do to him. It was part of how they had controlled them as they had gotten older. Thinly veiled threats of how much worse life could be. As they had reached puberty and the animal natures had taken a stronger hold, fear had been the only rein by which the guards had been able to contain them. Now, even numb from the shock, he felt the icy fingers of fear grabbing hold and twisting his gut cruelly. They knew he had failed, but did they know the full extent of his betrayal?

The ride back was carried out in sombre silence. The tension in the vehicle was heavy. Like a condemned man he was being conveyed to his executioner; back to the world that had created him and could just as easily destroy him. His mind was like a damaged video; replaying on loop the last moments he had spent trying to reason with Rachel. How could he have done it better? What could have saved her? He contained the sobs, he was a soldier. Instead, the tears slid down his face silently.

As the main gates swung into view, he uttered one word. It sounded more like the whimper of a beaten animal.

"No!"

The horrors that faced him had cracked open the shell of shock.

They dragged him unwillingly into the complex and threw him roughly into his cell. His hand unclenched to reveal the treasure he had contained within. Rachel's locket, his last link to another world. One he was forever to be excluded from.

Sandoval was waiting. He saw his secondary handler approach the stern faced man and they were obviously discussing him, just outside the range of the transgenic hearing. The anger he could sense and the glances of disgust thrown his way disclosed his fate long before the words confirmed it.

The horrors of psyops awaited him again. This time they would be a little more extensive in their attempts to unmake his mind and rebuild it for their own amusement. Manticore never took betrayal well. Sometimes death was the better option.

Inside the torture chamber of psyops, time held no meaning. He had lost his sense of how long they held him there. It seemed like days, but could have been but hours. As the laser bore sharply into his pupil and penetrated deep into his brain, he fought hard. He would hold onto her, to her memory, for as long as he could. The time shifted like desert sand till he could hardly remember who he was let alone what he was resisting for, but still his instincts told him to fight on.

As he was dragged limply along seemly endless corridors filled with row upon row of cells, faces inhuman and fantastic, assaulted his addled mind. His battered and bruised body was in far better shape than his tortured mind. Unmerciful hands dropped him callously onto the bunk of the solitary cell and left him to rot.

In the haze of his thoughts he could vaguely make out the Colonel, Lydecker standing at his feet. The face of the form beside him was …his own. He dismissed it as just another phantom, like the monsters that surrounded him. As he let consciousness slip from his grasp, but still holding tightly to the sanity that they had tried to rip away with their drugs and devices, he heard the words penetrate his fogginess.

"Let me tell you a little story….."

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As the new cell came into focus, Cain realised his situation may have been changed from bad to worse. The steel door was solid, but a small grated window brought to his ears the sounds of heavily booted footsteps echoing through the cement walled halls. The precision of the sound suggested marching. A military operation? Shaking his head in an attempt to clear it of the remnant effects of the sedative, he shifted around so that he could take in the rest of his surrounds. Turning around on the bunk, he noticed a set of neatly folded clothes piled on the floor. Grey fatigues. Looking down at his torn and dirty clothes, he took the hint and changed. He liked to feel clean and this gruesome smell of blood, even if it was his own, was setting his stomach churning again. 

He could also smell his own fear. It radiated around the room, enveloping him a blanket of sour. Sitting with his back against the wall, he pulled his knees up to his chest and hugged them. Now all he could do was wait. Wait for them to make the next move. He wasn't too sure who "them' was, or why they were interested in him. His visions appeared to have subsided since they had injected him. That brought with it some relief. At least it left his mind clear enough for him to assess what his options were. 

As he contemplated this, the cell door slid open. Cain quickly scrambled to his feet and moved to the back of the cell. Not too sure of who he would be facing. The craggy blonde man from the lockup stepped though the doorway, flanked one again by several burly, armed men. He appeared to take in Cain's appearance with approval.

"Welcome Son. This will be your new home." His smile was warm and appeared friendly but Cain was still very suspicious of this man. Last time they had managed to inject him, he wouldn't let his guard down again quite so easily.

"I need you to meet someone. He will help me explain this all to you before you are fully brought back to the fold." The man stepped back into the hall and the guards indicated that he was to follow.

As he followed along the concreted corridors, fully aware of the presence of the two men behind him at his shoulders, he felt calm for the first time in a long while, since the dreams had begun. Something, somehow, felt right. 

Cain looked down at the man Lydecker was showing him. He had seen all manners of monsters that were held down here in the basement. Terrifying creatures peering out through the bars at him. Some growling, others making sounds that set the hairs on the back of his neck on end. This, however, was the most horrifying of all. Through the bruises and swelling he could still make out this man's features. So familiar to him, because they were his own. He turned to Lydecker with a look of disbelief.

"What type of scam are you trying to pull? Who are you people?" He backed away from the Blonde man straight into the chest of one of the guards.

The blonde man held up his hands in a sign of placation. He started to talk as Cain's gaze once again fell to the battered body thrown across the bunk in front of him. Finally Cain's mind focused on the words, and he listened to a tale so fantastic that it sounded like the plot from someone's futuristic sci-fi show.

____________________________________________________________________________

The news had come through that 493 had been busy again. He had produced victim number 4 in Miami, and if his hunches were correct, it would be time to move on. The pattern that seemed to be developing was that there were an ever-increasing number of victims at each site: two in Chicago, three in New York, and now four in Miami. Renfro was beginning to really fret over this whole thing. She had been in his face and behind his back, now she was kicking his arse. He needed to get this dealt with, it had gone on far too long.

He has seen what they had done to 494. It wasn't pretty but it was better than what they could have done. His mind, though shut away inside, hadn't been totally destroyed. The stupid boy had fought them, both mentally and physically, making it harder on himself.

Now he had 495 with him. Having seen that he used his own initiative to change was promising. Seeing him dressed in the fatigues had given Deck hope that this could all work out. He looked like a soldier, even though his mind and body were undisciplined. It would take a lot of work but first he need to be prepped.

Lydecker could see that 495 was seriously having problems coping with the image of 494 before him. He needed him to listen and having the evidence in front of him was the only way he would ever believe the truth.

"Let me tell you a little story….." He began slowly and with a light tone. No need to frighten the boy further.

"Once upon a time, three baby boys were born. All three were exactly the same, sharing the usually unique gene code of creation, all had the same DNA. Though their lives were separate, still they remained intricately linked." Deck watched as Cain let the words sink in. 

"You are one of those babies. Your heritage is more than human. Those sensations you are experiencing, they are the awakening of your true nature, of the core of who you are." He paused and watched the X5 nodding as if things were starting to gel in his mind.

"And let me guess," Cain pointed at 494's prone figure, "he was another. So who am I really? What am I really? Why are you…."

Deck cut him off as the flood of questions became more desperate. Soothingly he addressed the man. "You are one of my gifted children. We sent you out into the world but it is time you came home. You need to learn who you are, so you can become what you should always have been, a superior soldier." 

At the look of horror on Cain's face at the mention of soldier, Deck tried to reason with him. "I suspect you know of your enhanced senses. Do you smell things far more acutely, see things more clearly?" At the nod, he continued on. "What you may not have realised is that your mind and body are drastically different to mine. Yes, they may look the same. You are far more than you appear." Deck lead them out of the room. Watching as Cain took one final look at 494 before they closed the doors and left him in solitary. 

As Deck led them out along the corridors again he continued his explanation. "You were made to be faster, stronger, smarter than the ordinary human." "How?" Cain's question was simple but was important.

"Recombinant genetics, you are the sum of many parts. Your genetic code contains elements of several species. It allows you to access their abilities as your own." At the scoffing noise that was emitted by 495, Deck decided on a new tack and they turned towards a set of stairs leading to a door. "It's true. Come I will show you how different you are."

They stepped out into the bright light, onto the parade grounds. Military drills were being carried out in several quadrants.

"These people are the same as you, they are what you will become."

A figure moved past at such a speed that all he could see was a darkened blur. The shock on Cain's face was quickly replaced by a look of dismay. The strangled question that escaped from him revealed that what Deck had been telling him had finally been acknowledged. 

"I am not human, am I?"

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	9. Judgement draws near

Reality Check

By Rowe

Summary: Three little boys born at Manticore grew into three very different men in different worlds. But one thing they all shared was their need for a purpose in life. This is their story.

Chapter 9. Judgement is drawing near. 

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Ben could smell it on the air. His lungs filled with the scent. It was intoxicating making him heady with its pungent aroma. Reaching down with his hand he dipped his finger in the puddle. He rubbed the sticky red fluid between his thumb and forefinger- lifting it to his nostrils to get a less diluted appreciation. It was the smell of victory- of a crusade well fought. Safely tucked away in his jacket pocket was the tribute to her for making him strong.

The glint of the moonlight on the nearby water broke Ben out of his revelry. This one had been good- he had been cunning and nearly succeeded where others had failed. He had nearly survived. The twang of the cat gut as it had sent the bolt hurtling towards his chest had been the only thing that had alerted Ben in time. The projectile had nearly reached him when his reflexes kicked in. His hand had shot out to intercept it mere inches from his skin- he'd had no time to duck or avoid. This had been so much closer than he was happy to admit. Was her faith in his ability waning- was she switching sides.

The body had slumped in to the water when the neck snapped. He'd finished the man's life quickly and efficiently, giving him the respect a worthy adversary deserved. Hauling the limp shell onto drier ground, he had let the surge of adrenalin wane a little before pulling out the pliers and setting about his task of collecting alms. Now the power was back. A strange kind of euphoria that was incredibly addictive. Surely 'She' must be the source of such an overwhelming experience. He bathed sensuously in the sensation for a few moments more. The body was arranged as he had the others. It needed to be perfect. Snapping the bones of a corpse with detached efficiency- Ben was adept at arranging the bodies- moving them into position like they were posable dolls. In his mind, like a black and white snapshot- was his template. The image of their first kill, their first experience with the true power in their blood. It kept him focused- it gave him form to adhere to. It made sense.

Entering the church, he made his way down between the rows of pews to the small statue of her. Withdrawing the bloodstained cloth from his pocket he moved to her feet. His eyes shone with a light of her. Then he felt it. A sharp tingle down his spine. Something he hadn't felt for a while. Stiffening he turned to face her, trying to suppress the thrill of excitement. Seattle was going to prove more interesting.

_____________________________________________________________________

494 Drifted in and out of consciousness. Sometimes he awoke through choice...other times he was more forcefully woken to be placed through another battery of tests to assess his brother's behaviour. The experiments were beginning to become more bizarre and desperate. 494 could sense he was reaching breaking point- holding onto sanity was become less of a goal as the lull of madness seemed peaceful in comparison. 

The images that flickered in front of his glazed eyes were beginning to confuse his sense. Time was passing outside of his realm of conscious thought. Most of the time it felt like his broken body was dumped on his bunk in his cell only to be dragged back out again minutes later for another round of torture. The smell of burning flesh and the gurgling sounds of a body in pain filled his senses. Yet he was too far disassociated to realise that they were his own.

In moments of lucidity he glimpsed the white lab coats of the minions as they scurried without rhyme and reason about him. Pushing buttons, moving levers, asking stupid questions and jotting down his increasingly incomprehensible answers. His mind had stopped trying to make sense of it. In fact, 494 wasn't sure what was real anymore, the sights and sounds just didn't seem to gel enough to allow him to format any thoughts. Finally his grasp on who he was and where he was becoming tentative.

The image that haunted him every moment the hard face of the blonde dragon. Barking commands and seemingly enjoying his pain and confusion. A sneer of pleasure crossed her face every time his hazel eyes screamed in pain- his voice was now gone- but his soul was not silent.

The row of photos on the wall made no sense to him. His face on another man...two other men. Images seemed to be all juxtaposed together in an progressively unrelated manner. Morgue pictures and grainy photos from his childhood were tacked around the room. 

A burning sensation started inside his skin as the toxic liquid in the drip began to seep into his veins. A sigh of relief escaped from deep inside his bruised and needle-marked chest- his friend, the darkness was coming to take him away again. 

_____________________________________________________________________

The cell closed in on him as Cain rocked on his bed in a mindless trance. It was the only way he'd found that he could escape the horror he had been forced to witness. The films of sterile death and violence had been on constant loop- indoctrinating him in the art he was supposed to become an expert at...assassination. His very being abhorred every second he watched but, strapped to a gurney and forced to keep his eyes open, gradually they were wearing him down. Cain cringed every time he saluted as he felt little pieces of himself- of his soul- ebbing away.

Each time the door opened he fought the instinct to keep from rushing it. His mind and body screamed at him to escape. He knew somewhere inside of him that it was no use. Really he wasn't trying to escape this cell even, for he knew that the horror that he was running from was buried deep inside himself. Inside the twisted double helix contaminated with poisonous abilities. He was an abomination. Something that was bred to do unspeakable evil.

That cold bastard Lydecker had him training with the kids. They were undergoing basic training- something that those of his age were well past. As they pushed their genetically enhanced bodies to the limit- Cain was forced to release the invisible barriers he had placed on his own abilities. They revelled in the power they could wield. These tiny little bodies had proven to him that they were capable of maiming and killing without blinking an eye. They knew multiple techniques to wring the life from a target- he gagged at the blood that spurted from their victims. 

Yet inside him was the bit that he hated the most. That little twinge of excitement that betrayed him. It betrayed all he believed in by reacting to what he was. The smell of blood made his adrenalin surge- made him feel more alive than he had ever felt. The idea of it sickened him but the feel of it thrilled. The conflict inside was driving him mad- and so he rocked. Forward and back. Bringing forward in his mind the images he clung to. The gentle images of his family- well they were still the people who raised him and they had given him a wonderful upbringing- especially when compared to the horrendous lifestyle his unit mates were being subjected to. Lost inside his memories he blocked out the world he had been thrown into. Between the mental exposure to mind altering propaganda and the physical skills he was being forced to acquire- Cain was losing sight of who he really was- a gentle soul in the service of God.

____________________________________________________________________________

The line of photos stared back at him, giving him nothing but a sense of foreboding. Deck could sense it. No, not like his children. He didn't have the genetic enhancement to call on his animal instincts. Yet, his gut told him it was time to be truly worried. It churned away inside him, everything seemed to be moving towards the inevitable. It looked like they had been right, this line was irretrievably flawed. Even the new one was displaying increasingly erratic and self-destructive tendencies. He didn't seem to understand that for all that he had lost- his sense of family, his service to God- he had gained so much more. Among mere mortals he was a superior- a near perfect specimen. Why couldn't 495 appreciate his physical abilities and the superior intellect that was developed to drive them? Deck shook his head at the response to testing that Cain had produced. The boy was tethered by his upbringing...limited by the low expectations he had in his own mind. Lydecker sometimes wished he had been so gifted- like the charges he had nurtured and seen grow into incredible soldiers. They were capable of things any normal man would dream about. All he could do was give them the discipline to make the most of their lab-given gifts.

Then the slap in the face came. The White-haired Witch with her insidious ways strode purposefully into his office. Without hesitation she sat comfortably in his chair behind his desk sifting through the layers of paperwork. She obviously thought she could act with impunity. Her arrogance both threatening and comforting...at least someone so arrogant would make mistakes- leave holes unplugged that would allow her to be _dealt_ with. Sandoval gave Deck a look of pity before scampering off out of the firing line. The thinly veiled threats- the past dragged out and thrown in his face. She wasn't terribly original but she was persistent and determined. With an extreme effort, he kept an iron grip on his anger- he was the only chance the X5s had. He dearly wanted to give 493 every chance of survival but the situation had taken a turn for the worse. He didn't want to condemn 494 and 495 for their sibling's misadventures. 

He uttered the word- he didn't like labelling Ben this way. The admission of the boy's failure- but at least it could be passed off as not being a design fault. Deck hated to do it. He had told her Ben was the one thing he hated to call any of his kids- but if it would save the others...

Ben was an anomaly.


	10. When things draw to an unnatural conclus...

Reality Check

By Rowe

Summary: Three little boys born at Manticore grew into three very different men in different worlds. But one thing they all shared was their need for a purpose in life. This is their story.

Chapter 10. When things draw to an unnatural conclusion. 

_____________________________________________________________________

The eyes that met his were cautious and spoke of her knowledge. He had to be careful not to let sentiment get in the way. She was dangerous, far more dangerous than any of these humans he had toyed with. She was also far less predictable. Moving towards her with care, he let her name pass his lips. The look of revulsion she could not hide on her face told him everything he needed to know. With a sudden and unexpected push he was past her and out the door, using the element of surprise to evade her. 

The priest was trying to help. Ben needed to set it all clear in his mind. Max's obvious distress and inability to comprehend his actions had made him have doubts, something he already had enough of and didn't need more. The calming words and attempts to mollify him were having an effect. Ben fought back the pain and confusion that threatened him and let the voice of the priest work. The little cubicle absolved him of all his doubts. He was hit by a realisation. This man was the one. He was the true test of faith.

His movements were quick and accurate. His hand burst through the little window and grasped the man's throat. He brought his face close and in a whisper told the man. "Prove how much you believe in her and she will set you free." 

Like every other time he had much that need to be prepared but this time was a little different. He needed mental preparation because this was could be his final proof of faith. Some instinct told him that this was the end. Maybe Max was the avatar that signalled him, he wasn't sure. Her appearance may have been just another test of his faith. He wouldn't let her distract him again. Not now when it all seemed to be drawing to a natural confusion. What better test than a man who served his lady openly and was acknowledged for it? 

The High Place gave him the same sort of freedom to think that they always had. When Max found him there he was both pleased and disturbed. He knew he mightn't like the conclusion she drew, but she, of all people, needed to understand him. The pain her harsh words brought, the confusion enveloping him again, all seemed to point to one thing. He was the anomaly they had feared. He led her back to his lair. He still trusted her and her judgement.

The words screamed to him as his eyes caught them. His mind responded as it had been trained. He was a killer with a mission. He could not fail or let even Max distract him. She was caught unawares...obviously not used to other X5s anymore. His speed and agility was something she was unprepared for. He had her caged before she even knew what was happening. 

Ben looked at his quarry. He had been right. This seemed like the end. Tonight his faith would be proven. The Blue Lady would be there for one of them. The man ran... as they always did. Tracking him was like all the others. He wasn't special at all. As the final blow was about to be delivered Max appeared. Her boot in his chest was the answer to his question of faith. The Blue Lady existed but not for him. She had saved the priest and forsaken him to his fate. 

Max squared up to prevent him finishing the man. He didn't want to fight her. Now she had adjusted to accommodate their lab-bestowed gifts she wasn't giving him any chances. She was fighting for something she believed in which made her all the more dangerous...and vicious. He knew that from his own experience. Still he held back...this was Max after all. The snapping of the bone and the crashing to the ground in pain took him by surprise. This wasn't how it was supposed to end. The Blue Lady was gone from his mind as the harsh reality that he had lost came to him. 

Max dropped to the ground beside him. She cradled him and he felt both her love and pain. In her arms he also finally felt a feeling of redemption. He was home and with the only family he had ever really known. The truth of what his options struck him with a clarity that he could not ignore. He was not going back to become the anomaly that haunted others from the basement...or even worse to be dissected to find the flaws. His pleading reached her. He could see it in her soulful eyes the moment she accepted their fate. Letting himself be distracted by her, he soothed her with their childhood fantasies. His was going to the good place...and that wasn't Manticore. 

_____________________________________________________________________

The lab boys asked him to behave in ways he couldn't understand. He could kill, yes. They had taught him how to do it, even provided him with the weapons in which to accomplish the task. Simon Lehane's body slumping to the ground was still fresh in his memory. This was different, a little sicker and a lot less cold and unemotional. These were crimes of passion that they were asking about which made the harder to comprehend. They were trying to incite a response in him to them. His mind recoiled at the idea of death without meaning or order. Somehow it served no purpose. It just wasn't logical...and his mind slid to the killing of Rachel ...something else not logical.

A sharp burst of pain accompanied her memory and his mind recoiled. She was forbidden ground. They had warned him about this. He let her image recede and focused back on the corpse they were showing him. The blood was something he could deal with, the odd tattooing of the barcode so very like his own and missing teeth were something else.

He let his mind drift and images and emotions that weren't quite his own began to embrace him, carrying him beyond the walls of Manticore. The basement receded once again and he let his eyes close and his mind relax. He could feel the adrenalin surging. It was a feeling he hadn't experienced since he was young. An unfettered, wild urge to hunt. It was what they had unleashed in them in kill exercises before instilling discipline over the natural urges as they had gotten older. His senses were totally bamboozled. The smells of the basement were invading his nostrils and giving him a headache but simultaneously he could sense the heart beat racing and the excitement in his veins, the thrill of the chase. 494 knew it had to be a dream. It came as a welcome escape from the nightmares of torture he had been enduring. He felt like he had a purpose but he wasn't sure quiet what. He rode the waves before sleep once again became blackness.

As he awoke, he seemed once again caught between consciousness and that elusive connection that seem to be touching his mind. From outside of these cell walls something reached out in pain and confusion. Not that he hadn't felt these emotions before, most recently they had seemed the only feelings that had been his own. This was different, it was foreign and invasive and he couldn't shake it away. Tears streamed down his bruised face as the hopelessness overwhelmed him. Maybe this was what they were wanting to find in him. This flaw in his psyche. The one that made him feel, let him empathise. The bruises were starting to heal, it must be about time for another dose. Every time his body began to regenerate he was taken away to receive another battering. They liked him weak. They also seemed to take pleasure in his pain. His bunk had become a welcome refuge. It seemed the only place that he experienced the feelings of escape. 

This time it all came faster, stronger, more potent than ever before. The adrenalin surges, the pain, the thrill of the hunt. His heart pumped till he thought it was going to burst. Then abruptly, it all stopped. His tortured mind received something different. Visions from beyond his cell. 494 began to see things, abstract glimpses that were random and strange. A blue idol of a robed woman, a childhood memory of Manticore barracks, like his own, yet strangely different. He saw a glimpse of the face of a dark angel in distress and was overwhelmed by a sense of serenity before all went black. 

For a moment 494 felt like he was set adrift. All the emotions he had been experiencing seemed to have just been cut off. He felt like he was coming down from a drug induced fantasy. 

Then he felt like he had been hit. 

An epiphany both painful and powerful took his breath away. No longer was he a pawn in the game. Someone had shown him another perspective, the bigger picture, where the system could be used and it was right to not just submit. An overwhelming feeling of understanding brought him to a conclusion. Manticore would never be able to beat him again. 

The guards opened the door to see him sitting on his bunk with a cheeky grin. The looks of confusion on their faces was almost comical...as was the look of fear. What faced them was so different from the broken man they had dumped in here a few days before, this man scared them with his cocky and self assured presence. 

494 found it all amusing. Manticore would be working for him now, rather than the other way around. 

_____________________________________________________________________

The four walls of his cell weren't there. Instead they were the four walls of his childhood home. The aroma he could smell was his Mom's fresh bread. He sought refuge in the memories. They kept his pain at bay for at least a little while. He made his bunk his place of solace. At home and in the church, he had always had somewhere he could still his thoughts and pause for reflection. Trying to reestablish some of those routines would be the only way he could survive. And survive he must. He didn't believe that God would abandon him to this hell. 

Now the initial shock of what he had been forced to endure was receding, Cain had begun to see it all as a test. Keeping control of his urges was just one of the self appointed tasks in the service of God he had allotted himself. Saving the souls of these poor children was another. They needed to be guided. Maybe that was his new purpose. He had been sent to the place where he was needed the most.

He had become adept at pretending. The Colonel believed he was the perfect soldier indoctrinated in their cruel ways. He let them all believe he a relinquished his past. At least by pretending he was one of them the session of mental torture had become less frequent. Those lab-coated sadists seemed to delight in breaking him and trying to rebuild him in the image of Manticore. The smell of the labs was enough to set off panic in him. 

Discovering his true abilities was also a challenge. He had never known that he had such power. It seemed impossible that he had been so blind. He had always been a meek man, never fighting physically when verbal confrontation would save the situation. Now his speed and strength were constantly amazing him. For someone who had always been humble about his abilities, he had discovered a latent pride in his achievements. 

He had almost come to terms with his beginning. He had forgiven his parents in his own mind for their betrayal. They had loved him, he was sure of that, but they had also been a part of the horror for far longer than he could have been if he'd been given the choice. Choice just wasn't something he had now. Manticore owned his body, but he would never let them take his soul. That belonged to something far greater. 

____________________________________________________________________________

He wasn't happy. He liked everything precise and regimented but this was spiralling further and further out of control. It had gotten to the point where he couldn't keep the information out of the news and someone sooner or later was going to put two and tow together about the barcodes on the victims. She had made him sacrifice the boy. His orders were to retrieve and terminate. The body was to be brought back for study the lab boy would pick over the carcass like the vultures they were. 

It all made him so angry. Maybe he should have foreseen what was going to happen that night they had escaped. If he had, he could have prevented the deaths and the pain that had resulted. Even worse he had lost her. He knew she had been here today. Somehow he could sense her presence. This X5 did not take his own life and from the battered state of his body he would guess only another X5 could have been here. Someone with a conscience. Someone like his Max. She was killer...they all were...but he knew her heart.

He leant down and felt for a pulse. The still blood under the warm skin was all his fingers could feel and somehow it broke his heart. Another one was gone. This one he felt was partly his fault. Never before had he had such doubts about what he was doing. This was definitely a low point. His career was in the dirt and his life wasn't all that safe. How much lower could he sink before he hit rock bottom?

For the first time in his life he began to truly question the wisdom of Manticore.

In his cell X5-494 had begun to cause a stir. His miraculous return to apparent health. Both mental and physical. had left the guards wary to set foot in his presence. Lydecker wasn't a superstitious man but he had his suspicions. Manticore had invested a lot of time and energy in twin studies, these soldiers had been prime candidates in those studies. Transmission of strong emotions and traumatic events seemed plausible, especially with the enhanced mental capacity and possibly also low level psychic abilities of the X5s. As he stepped into the cell he was greeted by the seemingly resurrected form of 494. He looked Lydecker up and down and smiled without any fear. Deck could see it in his eyes, this man had seen hell and seemed to have made peace with that. This past six months of mental examination hadn't broken him.

Approaching cautiously, Lydecker circled the X5. "We were not sure that you would make it 494." The look of calm confidence on 494s face unsettled him. "Yet you appear ready to resume active duty." Lydecker watched as the nearly broken man of only a few days before walked passed him seeming totally whole. Something strange seemed to definitely have occurred. This was like a man reborn. "Are you sure you are alright?"

With a wry grin 494 passed through the door and along the corridor- back to the world upstairs. He knew the truth. Manticore would never beat him. What he had experienced in this cell had set his soul free. 

"I'm always alright!"

******

Row upon row of fatigue-adorned soldiers stood at ease awaiting deployment into training squads. More than a few shared the same face, all shared the same expression. They were Manticore's finest specimens, the X5s. Yet still, they were a flawed product. Armed men waited along the perimeter watching their charges. These kids weren't prisoners, but more like livestock. Expensive and highly trained livestock, yet if needed were to be put down like any rogue animal if they became dangerous.

The face of the soldier in the front row, to all outward appearances impassive and attentive, proved that sometimes they were more than they appeared. His beauty was unmistakable, he was created that way. Amongst his fellow creations he did not stand out. They were all perfect. His mask of controlled attention was mirrored on the faces of dozens of others across the parade ground.

As the civilian couple moved to stand in front of him he did not move, he made no indication to acknowledge their presence. Even when the woman couldn't restrain herself from placing her hand on his arm. He didn't even blink. As her husband ushered her away soothing the quiet sobbing, Lydecker allowed himself a small smile of satisfaction. He felt somehow he had redeemed the situation to some extent- Cain was no more, and in his place was X5-495. Another soldier for the cause.

Nobody saw the tear that slid silently and unrestrained down the cheek of the statue-like soldier. Nobody saw as it dropped to the ground and the blinkers dropped for a split second to reveal the anguish hidden behind a stone-like facade. Nobody saw the man trapped back inside the haunting world of horror from which he had been spawned. 

This was Manticore. 


End file.
